Thank you Djinn, Heybats, and Athena Phoenix
for the beta.
NOTE
(Please read to better follow the story):
I wanted to go back in DC time to tell a story when our heroes were young and
somewhat naďve. Therefore, in this story, Dick Grayson is ten years old and is
Batman’s partner Robin. Wonder Woman is still fairly new to Patriarch’s world
and its customs, having only been here for a few short months. I’m using mostly
the ‘Trinity’ universe, but will also implement some story elements of Gotham
Knights and Wonder woman Volume 1 Issue 1.
DISCLAIMER:
I don’t own much, but if I owned any of these characters, I’d probably own a
heck of a lot more.
The Calling
By DC Lady
It was dark and cold. Once, she’d been
impervious to both, now she shivered as she walked beneath the dim and broken
street lights that cast uneven shadows in her path. She’d taken the only
shelter that she could afford after leaving the embassy -- after her duties as
Themysciran Ambassador were taken from her. Now she walked these filthy streets
trying to clear her mind. Planning her new life.
A life away from Themyscira.
Her breath hitched as unbidden memories of
home flooded through her. She exhaled in a puff of white as the cold air met the
warmth of her breath, and the realization of her plight took hold. She missed
her home -- her mother, her sisters. But, in her short time in man’s world,
she’d discovered a sense of purpose that had eluded her on the small island.
She’d always been loved, but now she was needed. She had a destiny to fulfill,
whether the gods approved or not. She’d won her title. She was Wonder Woman.
She slowed to a stop, remembering when she’d
first arrived in Patriarch’s world as Wonder Woman, investigating a nuclear
submarine explosion near Themyscira. She’d falsely accused Superman of
carelessness, and recalled her relief when he explained that he hadn’t been the
cause of the explosion. She was instantly smitten -- captivated by his passion
for justice which rivaled her own.
But now, Diana began to doubt her decision
to remain in this world -- doubted her motivations when she refused the gods’
command to return home. They’d felt that she’d lost her way and was settling
into the customs and attractions of this world.
But, had she lost her way? Had she let her
personal feelings guide her mission? She touched the lasso that remained steady
under her coat. Would it even work for her now that she was devoid of the
blessings of her Amazon heritage -- searching for deceit in the secret corners
of her heart?
She sighed, resuming her walk. Listening as
her heels clicked on the cold, damp pavement, echoing in the silence of the
night. It was late and she was alone. She’d never been this vulnerable.
Closing her coat tightly against the winter cold, she trembled in discomfort at
the elements -- a constant reminder of what she now was: a mortal woman.
The hint of movement ...
The gods had taken away her power, but her
instincts had not diminished. She was a trained warrior -- trained from birth.
So, when the uneasiness of the night hit her gut with a familiar dread -- a
dread she’d often felt before battle -- she was immediately on the defensive.
Danger was within reach, and she braced herself as the sound of footfalls echoed
behind her.
Calling upon her Amazonian training, she
decided the element of surprise would be her weapon. As the yet unseen
assailant closed in on her proximity, she abruptly stopped and turned --
obtaining a much needed advantage as the thug took an instinctive step
backwards.
He was a big man, whose attire told a story
of drugs and desperation, and her anger boiled at his willingness to take
advantage of the helpless for his own selfish needs. She also smirked inwardly
at his pending doom -- she wasn’t helpless.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble.” His gaze
shifted from side to side. “Just hand over the cash and no body gets hurt.”
When he seemed certain that they were alone, he pulled out a knife and held it
up in warning.
“Is that supposed to scare me? Or does
possessing such a weapon make you feel like a man? A man who preys upon
helpless women in the middle of the night?”
The thug was nervous.
“Just hand over the cash, bitch. I ain’t
got time for no naggin’.”
She took a step toward him and grinned, like
a hungry tiger circling her prey. “Then, let us put an end to this.”
Grabbing his wrist with both hands, she
cracked it upon her knee, causing the knife to fly from his grasp and hitting
the cold pavement with a metallic ping. He threw awkward and clumsy punches,
trying to make contact with any part of her body. Rolling onto the ground, she
escaped the impending blows, springing again to her feet. Her agility seemed to
surprise him, and she used his hesitation to knee him in the groin, and then
followed with a swift kick to his face as he doubled over in pain -- sending him
backwards onto the grimy pavement.
For a moment, all was still.
With hands on her hips, she inhaled deeply,
trying to catch her breath. She wasn’t used to the exertion level of her now
mortal body, and was distracted -- and thus surprised when he grabbed her from
behind.
He pulled her tightly to his broad chest,
and pressed the knife against the flesh of her neck. “Bitch! Don’t move or
I’ll cut you good,” he said, riffling through her purse with his free hand.
“I don’t think so.” The thug froze when a
form in red and blue hovered in front of him.
Dropping the knife, the thug stumbled away,
only to find Superman now blocking his escape. He lowered his head, apparently
trying to bowl over Superman, but only managed to knock himself unconscious.
Ripping a parking meter out of the sidewalk, Superman used it to secure the
attacker to a lamppost. He then turned to Diana, who was busily rubbing her
arms trying to stimulate much needed warmth through her limbs.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She was ashamed. Ashamed that she needed
him to rescue her from a common thug. She was Wonder Woman. She belonged in
the sky at his side, not here in the gutters requiring his aid.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice
trembled slightly from the cold.
He unfastened his cape, placing it around
her shoulders. “I could ask you the same thing. I went to your quarters at the
Embassy after you called. They said you’d left.” When she wouldn’t meet his
gaze, he lifted her chin with his hand. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.
They said you remained in the city, but didn’t leave a forwarding address.”
“The gods have rescinded my ambassadorship.
I no longer hold an official title to remain at the Embassy. I left this
morning.”
“When you called, you told me that you’d
lost your powers. What exactly happened?”
She frowned. “The gods felt that my
presence here in man’s world was not garnering the attention they desired for
themselves, and became jealous when my name became known above theirs. So, they
called me home. When I refused, my powers were stripped from me.”
“Why would they do such a thing? Can’t they
see the good you’ve done?”
She smiled sadly. “Their goal was to obtain
this world’s adoration. My accomplishments meant very little to them.”
“I see,” he said.
The silence was awkward.
He took in the surroundings, and Diana could
tell that he was using his enhanced vision to see the goings on in this less
than savory neighborhood. He frowned as he rubbed his brow. “Diana, do you
have a place to stay?”
“Yes, Kal. I am perfectly capable of taking
care of myself.”
He glanced over at the thug secured to the
lamppost. “I can see that.”
Her face grew hot in a mixture of
embarrassment and anger. “I would have obtained the advantage. I merely
underestimated my new level of strength. I will learn to adjust my technique.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “How?”
“What?” His question took her by surprise.
“How will you learn to adjust?”
“I’m not a novice, Kal. I’m a warrior,
trained for generations by great warriors.”
His tone softened. “You’re a highly skilled
fighter, Diana. I’m not questioning your abilities. But you need help. Someone
who can teach you to use the skills you’ve acquired with the level of strength
you now have.”
She slipped the cape from her shoulders,
handing it back to him. “I can take care of myself.” She turned to
leave.
He put his hand to her shoulder and her
resolve faltered at the warmth and caring she felt from a simple touch. “Diana,
you can’t do this alone.”
She turned to face him. “I have no other
choice. The gods have abandoned me. I will not, in turn, abandon my mission.”
“I’m not asking you to abandon your
mission. Just let us help you.”
Her brow creased in confusion. “Us?”
“Myself… Bruce. If you let us.”
She laughed. “Bruce? Bruce doesn’t approve
of me.”
“He’s never said that, Diana. Bruce admires
you.”
“He can barely stay in the same room with me
for more than a few minutes at a time, Kal. How can you say that he admires
me?”
“Well, Bruce isn’t much of a people person.
It’s his charm, really.”
She raised her eyebrow in amusement.
“Really?”
He grinned sheepishly. “Well, no,” he
said. “But I know he cares, he just doesn’t like to show it.” He saw her
skepticism and continued, “Why else would he fight with us?”
“And just what can he teach me that I don’t
already know?”
“A lot, actually. I’m still learning a
thing or two from him myself. Setting aside the fact that he’s a brilliant
detective, he knows every martial arts technique there is and then some. And
he’s not super powered.” Superman fastened the cape to his shoulders. “Let’s
face it, Diana. Do you know of anyone else who can hold his own against
super--powered beings?”
She shook her head. “He’d never agree to
help.”
“I’ll take care of it. But first things
first. Where are you staying?”
“Up the street.” She nodded toward the
trash--lined street to her less than favorable hotel.
He sighed. “You can’t stay there. It’s not
safe.”
She lowered her head. She felt like a
child, lost and alone, dependent upon the kindness of friends and strangers.
“I have no place else to go,” she whispered
hoarsely.
“Come on. Let’s go and get your things.
We’ll call the police and let them know of our friend, here, then I’ll take you
to a hotel uptown.” He held a hand up and stopped her protests. “At least
until we can sort through this.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“You’re not alone, Diana. We’ll figure
something out.”
“What are you
doing here, Superman?” It was Bruce Wayne who spoke, sitting at the massive Cray
computer, dressed in a tuxedo with his tie pulled loose.
“Just getting
back from a party?”
“I don’t think you’re here to inquire about
my personal activities. What do you want?”
He sighed at Bruce’s abrasive tone and flew
to the computer platform to face him. “Are you always this rude to guests?”
“Only to uninvited ones.”
“I’ll make this quick then -- she needs your
help.” He stood his ground, arms folded. Diana’s survival in this world
depended on Bruce’s cooperation.
“Does my reputation reach as far as
Metropolis?” He remained focused on his task as he spoke.
Bruce swiveled
his chair to face
“Maybe. But she didn’t. She wants to stay.
Wants to make a difference.”
Bruce
laughed.
“Just how does she intend to do that?” Bruce
asked.
“You do it. Why do you think she can’t?”
“Because she depends too much on her powers
and her ties to her past.”
“She knows she needs help. Who better to
teach her, train her, than you?”
Bruce closed
his eyes in apparent thought, then stood to face
Bruce gave him
a smug look before walking past him. “Don’t be coy,
Bruce turned to face him at the foot of the
stairs leading to the mansion. “Are you sure?”
“Does it
really make a difference?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Clark. If I’m to
train her, there can be no outside influences, especially from you.”
“And am I such
a bad influence, Bruce? The only reason I don’t train her is because, like her,
I depend on my powers. There’s nothing she can learn from me.”
“That’s why you’re a bad influence. You’re a
reminder of what she once was.” Bruce began his climb to the Manor. “Have her
come to the Manor tomorrow morning. I’ll tell her of my decision then.”
He disappeared
behind the door, leaving
Diana shifted uncomfortably while waiting
for Batman, and she wasn’t certain why she was apprehensive. Kal had said that
he’d spoken with him and was reasonably sure he would help her to achieve the
skills necessary to continue her mission. But she was uncertain, and she didn’t
know if it was because Batman might not help her, or that he actually would.
She’d never before been trained by a man --
a mortal, no less. And although she’d considered Batman to be an important ally
in her quest, she questioned his methods, and even his motives. He wasn’t like
Kal, whose abilities and methods were so much like her own. But she had to
admit that she’d never taken the time to know Batman’s motivations -- to know
who he was beyond the mask.
She turned at the clearing of a throat to
find Bruce’s servant carrying a service tray of tea.
“Master Bruce will be down shortly, ma’am.”
He placed the tray on a small table and motioned her toward a seat. “I thought
you might like some tea while you wait.”
“Thank you…Alfred, isn’t it?”
“Yes, miss.” He poured the tea and handed
her a cup, to which she promptly added a teaspoon of sugar.
“Are you Ba…Bruce’s servant?” She wasn’t
used to calling Batman by his given name.
“Yes, madam. I am his butler. I’ve been in service to the Wayne family since before Master Bruce was born.”
“That is a long time. They must treat you
well.” She smiled and took a sip of her tea.
“Yes, ma’am. That they did.”
She looked up from over her cup, curious at
his use of the past tense in his answer. But before she could raise her
question, she noticed Bruce standing quietly at the door -- watching.
“Were you planning on greeting me, or do you
prefer to watch?” She stood as he approached.
“You’d be surprised at what you can learn by
watching,” he replied.
“And what have you learned?”
His gaze fell upon her hair, which hung
loosely at her shoulders, and for a moment he didn’t move. Then he began to
circle around her, inspecting her from head to toe -- methodically, almost
mechanically in nature. Gauging her appearance.
“You have expensive tastes, Princess,” he
said, coming full circle to stand in front of her. He knew a thing or two about
women’s designer clothing, it seemed.
“I’m not sure if there’s a compliment in
there somewhere, but I thank you anyway,” she said.
He reached out and took her hand in his, and
she expected him to kiss it -- as countless men had done, mostly at boring
social functions she’d attended as the Themysciran Ambassador. But she was
surprised when he grabbed the sleeve of her blouse, tearing the delicate fabric
up to her elbow, exposing Wonder Woman’s silver bracelet.
He dropped her arm and turned away. “Lesson
number one, Princess -- you are no longer Wonder Woman. Those bracelets will
attract bullets from thugs looking to test your abilities. Unless you’re as
proficient in deflecting bullets as before, lose them.”
“Why, you insolent man!”
“And you aren’t royalty, either. Not
anymore. So lose the regal snobbery.”
She turned to leave. “I did not come here
to be insulted. I thought you would help me.”
“I am helping you.”
“By offending me?”
He walked past her and stopped at the door.
“If you do as I say, it just may keep you alive.” He turned to Alfred before
leaving. “Show her highness downstairs. We’ll begin with the basics.”
“Yes sir.” Alfred turned to Diana. “This
way, miss.”
Diana had no intention of following Batman’s
bidding, but Kal’s words echoed in her mind, “You need help, Diana.”
She looked at Alfred, who stood waiting.
She swallowed her pride and then followed his lead.
Bruce knew she
wouldn’t leave; her pride wouldn’t allow it. Her devotion to
He heard the click of the door and watched
as Alfred guided her to the foot of the stairs, where he waited.
“Here. You can change in there.” He handed
her a package and motioned toward a room to the right of the uniform vault.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Workout clothes.”
Without a word, she took the package and
walked to the dressing room.
When Diana was out of earshot, Alfred
stepped forward. “Sir, I fear her adjustment to the role that she must play
will be a difficult one.”
“It should be difficult. She has to know
what’s she’s getting into.”
“And do you know what you are ‘getting
into’?”
Bruce looked at Alfred, confused. “What are
you getting at, old man?”
“She is a woman with very little of life’s
experiences to guide her. You must make the necessary adjustments in dealing
with her.”
“She is a warrior, Alfred. She was born to
this life.”
“She is first and foremost a woman -- a
mortal woman. Something she has yet to confront.” Alfred paused before
continuing. “Her naiveté could lead to her downfall.”
Bruce nodded his agreement. “I know that.”
“Do you? There are some things that even
you cannot teach her.”
“What do you suggest? That I leave her to
continue her path as Wonder Woman without the proper training?”
“No. But that you seek out help with those
aspects of her training that are beyond you.”
“Leslie?”
“Why, what a marvelous idea, Master Bruce.
I shall call Dr. Thompkins and invite her to dinner this evening.” Alfred began
to climb back up the granite stairs to the Manor.
Bruce smirked at the retreating form of his
butler. “Why? I’m sure you already made the necessary arrangements.”
“Master Bruce, I am not a mind reader. How
could I have possibly known that you would have derived such a brilliant
notion?” Alfred asked as he stepped into the manor, closing the door behind him.
Bruce turned at the hint of movement behind
him.
“Shall we begin?” Diana asked.
“No. I’ve arranged for someone to show you
the basics. I’ll become directly involved with the physical aspect of your
training when your skills rise to a more proficient level.”
Bruce studied her reaction. Her face
hardened in barely controlled indignation. She had a quick temper -- something
that she would have to learn to control.
“I am proficient. I’m no novice.” He could
almost hear the gritting of her teeth.
“Diana, Princess of Themyscira -- Wonder
Woman -- is an easy target for any two bit thug wanting to make a name for
himself. Not to mention your run-of-the-mill megalomaniacs like Cheetah.” He
stood and faced her. “You are no match for any of them,” he said, then waited
for the inevitable.
He stopped her fist from connecting with his
jaw mid-swing, which only served to fuel her fury. With her free arm, she
attempted the same maneuver, but he easily stopped it as well.
Then her knee sought to connect with his
groin.
Dropping to a crouch, he swung one leg out,
sweeping her feet from under her. The result was an unceremonious landing upon
her ass.
He heard faint giggles from the uniform
vault. “You will train with Robin, and master each technique before advancing
to the next level.” Dick emerged from the shadows and Bruce continued. “Dinner
is at six sharp. We’ll discuss your new job with the Wayne Foundation and
lodging at that time.” He left them alone, leaving no room for debate.
Her heart thumped widely as she tried to
gain control of her emotions. Anger, disappointment, fear all fought savagely
for center attention. Then she looked up and saw a boy approach, -- no older
than ten -- garbed in bright red and yellow, holding out a green gloved hand to
help her to her feet.
“Hi. I’m Robin. But you can call me Dick.
Batman said you’d be training with us. And Bruce said it was okay that you knew
my real name,” he said in one breath.
She took his hand gratefully, rising to her
feet. “You speak as if he is two individuals.”
The boy smiled and she was sure that the
room was suddenly brighter.
He shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.”
She rubbed her back side and she wasn’t sure
if she really wanted to get used to it.
“Come on. We’ve got a lot to do before
dinner. And believe me, you don’t wanna be late for dinner,” he said.
“Why is that? Does Batman, or Bruce, get
upset with you?”
He smiled again. This child seemed to love
to smile. “Here’s a trick to help you keep track of it. When he’s upstairs,
he’s Bruce. When he’s down here, even if he’s not in uniform, he’s Batman. And
no, it’s not Bruce you have to worry about upstairs. It’s Alfred. He doesn’t
like it if you’re late. Says its bad manners.”
“I guess it’s good that Bruce has his
servant instill manners in his son,” she said.
The child blushed. “Oh, I’m not his son.
I’m his ward. And Alfred gets even madder at Bruce if he’s late.”
“What is a ward? Where are your parents?”
The boy’s face suddenly fell. The sadness
radiating from him was palpable. “My parents were killed two years ago. Bruce
took me in. He understood what it was like.”
She placed a comforting hand on his
shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“’S'kay,” he said then smiled again.
“Anyway, Alfred just doesn’t like bad manners.”
They both sat in the chairs facing the
computer. “How is it that a servant has such authority?”
“Servant? Alfred’s not a servant. He’s
family.”
She frowned in confusion. “He told me
earlier that he’d been in service to the family, not that he was related to
them.”
“He’s not ‘blood’ related. He raised Bruce
after his parents…you know,” he whispered, and his face saddened again.
“Bruce’s parents do not live here?”
“You don’t know? Bruce’s parents were
killed when he was eight. Alfred became his guardian. Just like Bruce is
mine.”
Robin began warm up exercises as Diana
mulled over this new bit of information. There seemed to be more to Batman than
she’d realized.
Leslie paced the expanse of the
library. “Bruce, you can’t be serious.”
Leslie often wondered where she’d gone wrong--how she’d failed the child of her
friends, Thomas and Martha Wayne. Despite her best efforts, she felt helpless as
she watched Batman consume what was left of Bruce.
“She asked for my help,” Bruce said.
“I couldn’t stop you from the course you’ve chosen for yourself. Nor, could I
stop you from leading Dick down the same path. But I won’t help you lead others
down this violent road.”
“Leslie, you know as well as I that Master Richard has thrived under Master
Bruce’s training. Being Robin has given him an outlet for the turmoil that rages
within him since his parents’ death,” Alfred replied. “And Miss Diana is hardly
new to this life. She simply needs to learn how to cope without the powers that
previously directed her work as Wonder Woman.
“Some of us are born into this life, Leslie. Diana was born for this life,”
Bruce said.
“I know you believe that, Bruce. But there were other paths you could have
taken. You chose this path -- a path from which I tried to steer you away.” She
sat heavily on the sofa.
“This is an old argument, Leslie. You could never understand.” Bruce stood
motionless at the edge of the fireplace, beneath the portrait of his parents,
and Leslie knew that he was talking about that horrible night.
“I couldn’t possibly understand because I haven’t experienced the hell you and
Dick have experienced? You may be right. But right and wrong are not
interchangeable.”
“I know right from wrong, Leslie. That’s why Batman exists. To keep what
happened to me -- to Dick -- from happening to anyone else. To do the job the
police have been too inept to do.”
“And who gave you that authority, Bruce? Who do you answer to in this
self-proclaimed undertaking?”
“To them. Every night, I answer to them.” He motioned to the portrait of his
parents.
Leslie pressed him further. She knew she was one of the few who would stand up
to this man. “Is this the life they would’ve wanted for you? Would they approve?
And what about Diana? She’s mortal now. How long before she, like you, begins
collecting scars across her body as a consequence of this life?
“Diana’s no novice. She’ll learn to take care of herself.”
“You’re taking advantage of her.
“She came to me. The choice is hers.”
“She needs time to adjust before making such a decision.”
“That’s why you’re here. To help her adjust to her new life,” Bruce said. “She
hasn’t been here long enough to know the hardships people face on a daily basis.
Her role at the Wayne Foundation will bring her into a world she’s never seen
before. You can train her. Show her how to be effective.”
“Leslie, you must agree that much has been achieved since Batman became Gotham’s
guardian, and we are all safer for it,” Alfred said.
Leslie often wondered what happened to make Alfred support Bruce in this insane
endeavor. She remembered a time when they’d both discouraged Bruce from the path
he’d chosen for himself, maintaining silent vigils on countless nights,
wondering if the boy they’d raised would make it home from his nocturnal
quest--and the all too often occasions when he’d returned bloody and beaten. But
it seemed that Alfred had long resigned himself to the knowledge that Bruce
would not change, and through time, she felt he’d eventually been placed in the
position of enabler.
“At what cost, Alfred?” Leslie stood and faced Bruce. “Bruce, this is an
opportunity for Diana to get out of the Superhero business. To use her fame and
history to resolve matters peacefully.”
“She’s both a diplomat and warrior. She will settle for nothing less.”
“Only because she knows no other way.”
“Then teach her. Show her our world’s methods of peace, and I’ll teach her how
to be an effective warrior. Both are vital to society.”
Leslie regarded Bruce before turning away. Thinking. Remembering.
She remembered Bruce’s passion for expanding the Wayne Foundation--a charitable
organization founded by his parents to help Gotham’s poor. Under Bruce’s
direction, the foundation had become one of the largest charitable organizations
in the nation. In addition, Bruce’s personal philanthropic ventures were not
common knowledge, but Leslie was aware of them, and she had to admit that Bruce
had often used peaceful methods to better society, and to help those less
fortunate.
She berated herself for forgetting. For letting Batman make her forget.
If only he’d turn away from the violent path he was so intent on taking. She
resolved, however, never to give up on him, and hoped Diana would eventually
choose a path other than that which she was accustomed.
She inhaled deeply. “All right, Bruce. You win. I’ll help, Diana. But on one
condition…she does not actively become Wonder Woman again, until both of us are
satisfied that she is ready.”
Bruce nodded.
Leslie exhaled, at least partially satisfied. “So, when does she start work at
the Foundation?”
Bruce smirked. “As soon as I tell her she has a new job.”
The dining room was massive, but the intimate family dinner filled the expanse
with warmth. Diana marveled at the idle chatter between this odd little clan,
especially when it involved a man she’d only known to grunt and glare his
intentions on the battlefield. Dick seemed to bring out such a different side of
him. She couldn’t help but feel homesick for her own family, but immediately
cast the painful feeling aside, instead focusing on the reason for her being
here tonight, and becoming impatient with this familial display.
She was eager to continue with the business of her training.
Alfred cleared the remnants of dinner, and Diana watched as his gaze was caught
by Bruce, who nodded imperceptibly toward Dick.
Alfred straightened and folded his hands behind his back. “Master Richard, I do
believe that it is nearing your bedtime, and your homework is not yet
completed.”
“Oh Alfred. Do I have to?” Dick looked from Alfred to Bruce, and Diana wondered
how either man could ever deny this child a thing.
“It’s getting late, chum, and Diana and I have business to discuss,” Bruce said.
“I’ll be up to check on you later.”
Dick placed his napkin atop the table, and then stood. “G’night everyone.”
Leslie stood and grabbed Dick in an embrace. “Goodnight Dick. And don’t be a
stranger. I’d love to have you visit the clinic more often.”
“I will. Promise.”
“Goodnight, Dick. I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose.” She knew she’d be training
with Dick again, and despite Dick’s obvious skills, she was disappointed. She
was anxious to take Batman on directly. To validate her competency to him. She
then berated herself for feeling the need to prove herself to this man.
“Night, Diana. See you tomorrow.”
After Dick left, Bruce reached into his jacket and retrieved something from the
inside pocket, throwing it to land on the table in front of her. Diana picked up
the white card which had her name embossed on it.
“What’s this?” Diana asked.
“That’s your security access card into the Wayne Foundation building and your
new office.”
“My new what?”
“You start work day after tomorrow. You’re the new executive in charge,
answering only to me,” he said. “Leslie will help you get to know the people who
are most affected by the foundation.”
“You’re offering me a job at your company?”
“Yes.”
Leslie was silent, but she seemed interested in Diana’s reaction.
“I’m here to relearn to fight. Not to procure a job.”
“Training comes in many forms.”
“This job is a part of my training?”
Leslie leaned forward and folded her hands atop the table. “The Wayne Foundation
has been beneficial in providing basic needs to Gotham’s disadvantaged. The
Foundation also provides low income housing, jobs, healthcare--I could go on and
on.”
“What does all that have to do with me?”
“There are other means to fight injustice. Surely as an ambassador, you realize
this,” Leslie said.
“As a non-powered mortal, you need all the tools you can find at your disposal.
This job is not just about seeking justice, but working at the root of the
problem. Giving people choices. Reaching them before they turn to crime,” Bruce
said.
She contemplated what Bruce and Leslie were telling her, but she couldn’t help
but feel manipulated. She fought to keep her anger at bay. “I can do those
things without your help. I came here to train as a warrior, not an executive.”
She was beginning to suspect that Bruce was testing her ability to control her
emotions. Another aspect of her training, no doubt. Clark was right. Bruce was
good, but this was more than what she’d bargained for.
Bruce sat motionless, watching her. “Teaching you to fight is easy. Showing you
how to survive isn’t, and I won’t do one without the other.”
“It seems you are doing much more, Mr. Wayne. You’ve planned my life without my
input.” Her voice was dangerously low.
“The choice is always yours, Princess. You don’t have to take the job. But I’d
advise against turning it down.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, my dear, you are still new to this world. You need to know just who it
is you will be fighting for,” Leslie said.
“I know diplomatic protocols. I’m not new to this.”
“You learned those protocols by attending social galas held by the so called
elite, who used you and your status to advance their own agendas.” Bruce paused
before continuing. “You’ve yet to dirty yourself in the trenches.”
She stiffened at the insinuation. “I am more than willing, and able, to do what
it takes to get the job done. I’ve never backed down from a fight.” She pushed
her chair back roughly and stood. “I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do.” Bruce displayed no emotion. His tone was cool and even, making
Diana’s temper flare even more.
“Diana, Bruce is offering you an opportunity to make a difference in the lives
of many people. Isn’t that what your mission here is about?” Leslie asked.
Leslie’s words cut through the cloud of pride she’d been hiding behind ever
since her powers were stripped from her. Especially where Batman was concerned.
She was surprised to realize his respect meant more to her than she was yet
willing to admit.
She sighed and settled back into her seat, but caught him as he wielded a
satisfied smirk--apparently admiring her unprecedented ability to stifle an
outburst.
She turned at the clearing of a throat. “Excuse me, sir. But it seems you are
needed elsewhere,” Alfred said, and nodded toward the window.
Diana stifled a laugh at the sight that greeted her when she looked out of the
window. The image of a bat, illuminated against the pitch of night.
Leslie answered her unasked question. “That my dear, is Commissioner Gordon’s
method of contacting Batman.”
“Ladies. If you’ll excuse me.” Bruce stood and turned toward Diana. “We’ll
discuss your living arrangements when I get back.”
Diana rolled her eyes wondering how many more surprises she’d be willing to
accept.
“Be safe, Bruce,” Leslie said.
“Always.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then left to meet with the
Commissioner.
Diana turned to Leslie. “Is there trouble in Gotham? Is that why the
Commissioner has summoned Batman?”
“Must be. Gordon usually doesn’t use the signal unless it’s something the police
can’t handle,” Leslie replied. “It seems that the police have been less inclined
to handle a lot of situations of late.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, they rely too heavily on Batman.”
“But if he can be of help, is that such a bad thing?”
“By asking for his help, they’ve sanctioned his mission.”
“You don’t approve?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Bruce is the best at what he does. What I don’t condone is
his methods,” Leslie said.
Diana was surprised at this woman’s candor. “I’ve worked with Batman. He is a
great warrior, albeit an arrogant one.” Diana smirked.
Leslie laughed out loud. “Oh dear. You are certainly right about that.”
“What methods don’t you condone?”
“I’m a pacifist. I don’t believe that the violence Batman perpetrates on the
criminal element will have a lasting effect,” Leslie said. “That’s why this job
at the Wayne Foundation is important. It will give you the opportunity to
correct some of society’s shortcomings. To reach people before they choose a
life of crime.”
Diana contemplated Leslie, and realized that there was truth to this woman’s
words. She leaned forward, enjoying her company, and thinking that this new job
might not be a bad idea after all.
On the roof of police headquarters,
Jim Gordon lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The night was cold and misty,
but the chill that ran through him had nothing to do with the evening’s
forecast. He’d been a cop for longer than he’d care to admit, and had seen more
than his share of ghastly crimes. Most cops developed an emotional detachment
vital to any normal person’s sanity in a job like this. He was no different.
Except on these types of cases, when the combined efforts of the police
department--his department--failed to solve what Jim concluded was the work of a
serial killer.
Another crime scene. And although the causes of death were identical, the
victims’ profiles were not, with no obvious connections between any of the
victims or their families, except that they all lived in Gotham’s least savory
of neighborhoods, the East End. A once prosperous and vital part of the city,
the East End had been steadily overrun by hoods and crime lords, with
prostitution and drug trafficking their main source of income. The culture of
corruption had become so rampant that its arms reached into the very heart of
Gotham, eventually leaving its mark within the confines of the police itself.
But, with the help of Batman, Gordon had been able to make enormous strides in
sifting out his crime-ridden home, eventually establishing firm protocols, and
strengthening morale. But his department still had its limitations. They were
slow to react, and a killer was at large. He needed help. He needed Batman.
“What is it?”
Gordon jumped, and then berated himself for being surprised. He was expecting
his arrival, but Batman had a way of startling him, nevertheless.
“I’ve come to believe that you enjoy scaring the hell out of me.”
There was no reply. There wasn’t even a sign that Batman had heard him, but
Gordon knew that he had. Batman wasn’t one for small talk. Gordon kept trying to
get this man to open up, and he wasn’t sure why he bothered, except that on some
level he’d yet to figure out, this man was a friend.
He took another drag from his cigarette, and then threw it to the ground,
grinding it beneath his shoe. “I need your help. There was another murder. A man
and woman, shot to death in their home.”
“Same scenario?”
“Looks like it. Forensics isn’t finished with the sweep of the crime scene to
make that final determination.” Gordon handed Batman a folder. “This is
everything I have from the previous murders. There’s not much there.” The
Commissioner turned to leave. “My boys are expecting you at the house.”
He turned around for some sort of rebuttal or acknowledgement that he was heard,
but Batman had already disappeared. “I hate it when he does that,” he muttered,
then buried his hands deeper into his coat pockets, slowly walking back into the
building.
The bed was soft and warm, and Diana enjoyed the luxurious feel of the soft
fabric against her bare skin. The cozy and seductive contact of such opulence,
however, did nothing to soothe the anxiety that had gripped her since losing her
powers, and that had worsened since she’d agreed to have Batman train her. The
arrangement was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for.
She folded her arms on top of the covers, and stared at the ceiling. “He treats
me as though I am a child, unable to take care of myself.” She began to mutter
Greek curses under her breath at Batman and his controlling manner. “Who does he
think he is? A god? I know plenty of gods and he’s definitely no god.”
Sighing, she took a calming breath, analyzing events since that fateful day when
she awoke to a mortal existence, knowing that any mistakes she made henceforth
could cost her life. She pushed aside her feelings and sought the truth, not
willing to allow her pride to cloud her judgment--something she’d practiced in
her life as Wonder Woman, with her lasso guiding her. But the lasso no longer
worked, and she wondered if its magic had disappeared completely, or if it was
ineffectual only when she touched it.
She closed her eyes in her soul-searching attempt, praying to the gods who had
abandoned her. “Dearest Athena, please do not look away. I need your guidance.”
Silence.
“You’ve been at my side since birth, why do you turn from me now?”
Again, silence.
The gods had created her determined spirit, and she would not give up on them,
even if they had given up on her. She would learn to accept their punishment,
even if she didn’t completely understand what she’d done wrong. How she’d lost
their favor.
Her thoughts drifted to her home when she’d had their blessing, but quickly
returned to this world. To one person in particular.
“Kal.” The sound of his name in the empty room gave her comfort.
She knew that Kal had been right. She needed help. And if she was completely
honest with herself, she had to admit that Batman was a brilliant warrior whose
methods were sound. She also realized that she would have to adjust her life for
the sake of safety, something she’d never had to consider before, and she wanted
to scream at the annoyance of it all.
Then there was her new job. She’d been hesitant at first, but now realized that
the Wayne Foundation was the perfect platform for her mission. Thankfully,
Leslie was there to soften Batman's arrogant manner in offering her the job. Or
had it been Bruce Wayne? She must remember the roles that he played since he put
such importance on secrecy and stealth, something she couldn't understand,
because she’d never hidden in shadows and preferred to confront problems head on
and without delay.
She glanced at the clock. “Two a.m.”
Another string of Greek epithets escaped her lips. She pushed back the sheets
and stumbled blindly in the dark for the closet, stubbing her toe on the chair
and then cursing its presence in her life. She used to be able to see in the
dark. She used to be able to do a lot of things that were so foreign to her now
that she’d begun to wonder if her previous existence had only been a dream.
She fumbled blindly for the light switch, finally managing to turn it on, but
then squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught of sudden illumination. She
blinked until she was able to open her eyes wide, and then marveled at the sight
in her closet—her entire wardrobe had been meticulously arranged and was at her
disposal.
“Now, Alfred could definitely be a god.”
She could get used to this indulgence, but she had no intention of staying in
this house longer than was required. She was anxious to begin her new life, but
also realized that Batman had been right; she needed him, which caused another
round of curses to fly forth in the room.
Diana scanned her garments which hung tidily side by side, but didn’t find what
she was looking for. She sank to her knees, sitting on her heels, realizing that
her life’s possessions were displayed before her in this closet, and they, like
her, were lost among strange surroundings and even stranger customs. She
grumbled at her inability to fight as she once had. To stand up against
injustice and pummel it with her once powerful blows. She missed the action. The
adventure. The thrill of the hunt.
“Artemis, of all the gods, how could you condone this? You’ve stripped me of my
very soul.”
She fought the tears that threatened to overtake her, but as she lowered her
head, she saw a familiar case on the floor and flung it open. Grabbing her
uniform, she clutched it tightly against her chest, remembering the hard-fought
battles she’d won to possess it. She quickly changed, overcome with the need to
feel like herself again, to remember who she once was. Snapping the bracelets in
place, she smiled, coiling her golden lasso and placing it in its familiar spot
at her hip. Now she would go to the Batcave to work off her fears and regrets in
the gym, knowing that Wonder Woman still existed.
It had been a long night. Gathering evidence at the scene of a murder had never
been easy, but Batman had learned long ago to force down his emotions, to focus
on the job. He was anxious to begin the arduous work of forensic analysis. There
was much to be done before the killer struck again, so when he pulled into the
Batcave to find Diana working out in the gym, he groaned in irritation.
He exited the car, then walked past her, ignoring her looks of greeting, and
placing the various samples he’d acquired from the crime scene on the table in
his lab. He knew she wanted to talk, wanted answers to questions about her
training. She deserved answers. But he wanted to wash away the stench of death
that seemed to cling to him on nights like these. Then he would face her.
The shower was hot, just the way he liked it. The near-scalding water hit and
softened twitching muscles that had tensed throughout the course of the night.
He could feel the relief rolling through him, making him feel human again-until
reality once more reminded him of his responsibility to Gotham and to solving
the crime that now rested on his shoulders.
He walked out into the chill of the cave and found her sitting cross-legged on
the floor, facing him.
“We need to talk.” She stood and waited, but he was silent and moved past her to
the lab.
He slipped on the white coat that hung from its hook on the wall and readied his
equipment to run a battery of tests.
“What are you doing?” she asked and stepped closer.
He placed a sample on a glass slide and slid it under the microscope. He peered
down through the scope’s lenses as he answered, “I’m running an analysis of the
samples I obtained at a murder scene.”
"Isn’t that a job for the police?”
“I do it better.” He tried not to smile, but only managed to partially contain
it. She, however, did smile.
“Samples of what?” She sat next to him and seemed genuinely curious.
He carefully turned the microscope toward her. “Here. Look.”
She peered through the lenses, her face contorting in apparent confusion. “What
is this?”
“A human hair.”
“And what does this hair tell you?”
“Look closer. What else do you see?”
“Just a black hair.”
“At the very tip, you’ll see the white follicle.”
“Yes. But I don’t understand its relevance.”
“It tells me that this particular hair was forcibly removed from someone’s head,
along with several other hairs that are in police custody as evidence,” he said.
“And, it’ll tell me a lot more once I run DNA fingerprinting.”
“What will you do with the results?”
“The results will let me know if this hair came from the victim or the
perpetrator. If it’s the perp’s, it can be used in his capture and subsequent
conviction.”
Diana nodded. “In your justice system.”
“Yours too, Princess.” He turned his attention back to the hair follicle, but
felt her gaze as it remained steadily focused on him. Waiting.
He straightened, faced her, and after a brief pause said, “Today, Leslie will
take you to Wayne Enterprises’ residential suite. It will be your temporary
residence until you can find lodging of your own. Once you begin receiving a
salary, you should have no problem finding something more than suitable,” he
said. “There is also a scheduled press conference, where Bruce Wayne will
introduce you, Diana of Themyiscara, formerly Wonder Woman, as the Wayne
Foundation’s newest chief executive.”
“I’m still Wonder Woman. That has not changed,” she said, and his gaze shifted
from her tiara to her red boots.
“I can see that,” he said but continued undeterred. “Bruce Wayne will also
explain the functions of your position and our goal for the Foundation to expand
its resources both locally and abroad.”
“I see.”
“We will rehearse answers to potential questions that the reporters are likely
to ask.”
She nodded. He watched and waited as she pondered what she’d been told.
“Kal is a reporter. Will he be there?”
Bruce smirked. “Metropolis’ Daily Planet will no doubt send a representative to
the conference. I’m guessing Clark Kent and his partner Lois Lane will be in
attendance.” He turned back to his work.
“When will you train me to fight?”
Bruce didn’t look up. “I told you. When you’ve mastered what Robin has to show
you.”
“I’m not a child. I am ready for more.”
He looked at her briefly. “Then prove it.”
How much more do I need to prove?” she asked. “You act as though everything
you’ve known me to be, never existed.”
“You’re in a new ballgame, Princess.”
“I haven’t lost the ability to fight, Bruce. I understand that I need to make
adjustments.”
“Your entire way of life will need to be adjusted.”
“I know.”
The words were whispered. Did she understand?
“I do not find criminals by looking under a microscope. I face them head on. I
bring them to justice,” she said.
“Then you won’t live long enough to make a difference.”
She clenched her fists, but she looked more frustrated than angry. “I cannot
change who I am.”
“Who you are is not in question. What you do, and how you do it, is.”
She turned away.
“Diana, you don’t have to do what I do to be successful in your mission. But you
do have to take precautions if you want to survive.”
“This isn’t easy for me, Bruce.”
“What you want isn’t easy.” Bruce wouldn’t make it easy. He couldn’t. Her life
depended on his training.
“I’ll do what you want. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll always agree with you.”
Bruce smiled. “I never expected you to.”
To be continued.